


Finally, You and Me

by pensversusswords



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Steve Tony Appreciation Celebration Day, Superhusbands (Marvel), stac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve. </p><p>By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally, You and Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yougavemeahome (emzedragon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emzedragon/gifts).



> Or, what happens when Avengers Assemble Steve and Tony fall into MCU Steve and Tony's world. 
> 
> Okay, so I'm really nervous about this fic. 
> 
> My stevetonyfest gift for yougavemeahome. I would've liked to have added more bulk to it, but you know, real life got in the way (if you really like it though and would want me to expand on it, hey I'm more than happy to!) This was so unlike anything else I've written but I love a challenge so I had a lot fun with it. I don't really have any experience with crossovers, so I hope this is what you were looking for? I'm very worried I butchered the hell out of this, but I really, really hope it doesn't suck and you love it! Merry Christmas and happy SteveTonyFest :).
> 
> [My tumblr](http://preserumsteve.co.vu), where I take prompts and all the fun stuff happens.

_everybody told me love was blind_  
_then I saw your face and you blew my mind_  
_finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time_

_lana del rey - lucky ones_

 

Prologue

_*_

See, when it happened, they didn't act like they hate each other anymore.  
  
The thing was, they never really did. Maybe in the beginning it felt like it, when things were chaotic and everyone could feel the world tilting onto its side. Maybe then when everyone felt like fear was pricking its cool fingers across the backs of their neck, like claws were scraping insistent and frantic against their skin. Maybe then, they hated each other, but at the same time, not really. Tony still couldn't be sure; but he was almost positive that it had nothing to do with each other at all.

Anger that had nothing to do with each other stung the insides of their mouths, leaving a bitter aftertaste behind, a constant reminder of their qualms. Tony knew he'd said things he didn't truly mean, he'd only known the man for a day after all, what did he know? But in the moment, the world was ending and everything was spinning out of control, and Tony hated not having control, hated it with every fibre of his being.

Then, he'd walked in; Americas lost hero, the prodigal son returning home from the war only just to be thrust right back into it again. Golden and valiant, he'd walked in with that plastic smile on his lips, and an earnest goodness in his eyes, but Tony would've been an idiot if he'd missed the way his shoulders were tight with tension, the sadness that hovered in his eyes like the ocean swelling over to belch out a storm. Tony saw the grief, saw the pain in every line of his body.  
  
But the golden boy turned out to be self righteous and pig headed, and Tony was egotistical and broken in all the right ways for that to easily spur him to anger. It hadn't taken much, that scowl and the eyes that screamed 'tortured soul' burning into him, and he'd lashed out, striking where it would hurt.

It was evident right from the beginning that Steve wasn't blinded enough to be fooled by the mask Tony pulled on, knew where to strike where it hurt. He'd wondered at first if it had something to do with the fact that he was a man of the past, maybe people back then weren't made of silicone and regret, maybe they said how they felt, maybe they were more honest. Then Tony realized that it would be foolishly looking through rose coloured glasses to think that way, and finally determined that somehow Steve just knew how to look through him, for unknown reasons. He tried not to dwell on it too much.  
  
In the end, that anger had faded to something more manageable, less full of spite and unwarranted hatred, something more along the lines of tolerance and mutual respect. They spoke when they ran into each other, shook hands after missions, were generally civil. Even though those words hung between them like a heavy curtain, words of first meetings and regret, they didn't acknowledge them. Tony understood, he thought. He hoped that Steve did too.

It was a strange place to exist, that empty space of avoidance and mutually beneficial tolerance. They didn't exist in each other's space, but instead curved around each other, sometimes coming across each other in passing, a flicker of a greeting hanging on their lips, and they would fade away again. It was just this time period of non existence, this blank space where they both grieved and licked their wounds in their own space.

It took a while for them to settle into something that resembled friendship, something that blurred out the edges of the tension always hovering over them. It started quite easily, with something as simple as spilled coffee down Steve's shirt sending them into a fit of laughter, to actual conversations about things that mattered.

It was slow, gradual, but that was alright. They had the time.

The problem was though, for Tony those edges blurred further, into something terrifying and warm all at the same time, but back then he daren't speak of it. Once the tension faded, and he started to see Steve for how he really was beneath the cowl; the way he tucked his feet under him while he drew, the way he looked in the mornings all tousled and sleep, the way he pretended not to be amused but a tiny smile on his lips would give him away every time. Once he noticed these things, and he wasn't blinded by unwarranted dislike, something sparked hot and furious inside of him, something that for a long time he didn't dare to say out loud.

That was for quiet thoughts in the dead of night, stolen glances he hoped went unnoticed, a gasp on his tongue in the darkness of his own bedroom. Those thoughts belonged only to him back then, and for a long time he was able to be satisfied with friendship. So between him and Steve, friendship grew hesitantly.  Apologies were given, truce was made, and new paint was spread over the old, clearing away old squabbles and making way for something cleaner.  
  
They'd been in the middle of a war, after all. They weren't lying when they said that war changes people.   
  
So they were acquaintances, then teammates, tentative friends eventually, and they worked together with only the occasional (more than occasional) spat. 

Later on, they'd tell each other that it was obvious now that they just hadn't been ready for each other then, and that it was okay that they weren't. It wasn't the right time.

They'd look back on that time with heavy sighs, but with a soft acknowledgement that it was necessary. Neither of them would have changed anything about their story, neither of them would have gone back to shift one event. It had all been necessary, and they both knew that. 

It just so happened that they were lucky, because time had always been on their side.

*

When it happened, the sun was just coming up, rosy and golden in the sky, on the day after they'd saved the world as Avengers for the sixth time, and Tony and Steve were arguing.

They'd all been collapsed in various states of disarray and exhaustion in the living room on the common floor, when Steve walked in, having stayed behind to speak with Fury about something. He walked in with a frown pinched between his eyebrows, and his eyes immediately sought out Tony, who braced himself for the oncoming storm when he saw _that look_ in Steve's eyes.

"Tony," Steve bit out, his voice as calm and controlled as ever, but too tight for it to be considered casual. "May I speak with you in private for a moment?"

Tony lazily looked up at him, his voice equally tight when he spoke, but underneath his trademark smirk. "No can do, Capsicle. If you want to yell at me, you're going to have to do it in front of everyone."

"If you're going to fight again, do it somewhere else," Clint said from where he was slouched over on one of the couches, voice muffled where he had his face stuffed into the pillows. Natasha, who was lounging on the couch beside him with his feet in her lap, gave him a sharp look that he didn't see, and Steve and Tony just ignored him.

That frown deepened, the lines between his brows becoming even more defined. "I don't want to yell at you, I just want to talk about what happened earlier in the field."

"You mean how I saved everyone's ass, including yours?" Tony gave him his most infuriating grin, and he could've sworn he saw Steve recoil.

"You put yourself and the team at risk," he said slowly, his gaze unflinching. "It could've ended badly, people could've been killed."

"But they didn't," Tony pointed out. And it was true; no one had been hurt; believe it or not, Tony always took into account the safety of civilians, he wasn't that selfish. The only one who would've gotten hurt when he dove headfirst into battle with an unknown enemy that massed in size to be as tall as a building and dealt  out vicious blasts of lethal energy, he'd known that he could've been very easily crushed or vaporized or any other number of unpleasant things. There had been no time to relay his plans to the team, no time to gather back up. It was a 'now or never' kind of thing.

"But they could have," Steve snapped, and oh, there it was, the anger hovering underneath the surface just dying to be set free. "You put people in _danger_ Tony, don't you care about that at all?"

Tony's eyes flashed, and he felt his own anger boiling hot and frantic in his gut. "Save the self righteous act for someone who cares, Steve."

Steve looked like he was about to fly across the room and strangle him. Tony would've liked to see him try.

It was almost funny how easy it was to almost fool himself into thinking that the sharp flashes of feeling in his gut were of pure anger, and not of something else that he didn't dare to consciously identify. Almost. Because damn, even though he admired and more than a little bit wanted the guy to fuck him up against a wall, he really knew how to push all the right buttons to completely piss him off.

Steve shook his head and looked at Tony with what he could only label as disappointment, his azure eyes blazing.

"You really should try to be less selfish."

Before Tony even thought it through, he was on his feet and striding across the room until he was less than an arm's length away from Steve, anger prickling every nerve in his body. His body ached with exhaustion, and he was pretty sure he had a nasty wound on his back, and this was just too much right now. He couldn't deal with this.

"And you should really try to come down off your high horse, Mr. High and Mighty. I know you love looking down on everyone, but between that and the massive stick up your ass, you're incredibly insufferable."

"I'm not looking down on you," Steve snapped, and that was it, he was just a tiny push away from shouting in Tony's face. "All I care about right now is that innocent civilians could have been killed, all because you were reckless. You could've called for backup, you could've-"

"There was no time," Tony ground out between gnashed teeth. Boy did this man know how to rub him in all of the wrong places. "Get that through your thick skull, Cap. I made a choice based on the severity of the situation, and I acted accordingly."

Steve gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "See, that's the problem Tony. _You_ made the decision, not _we_ -"

"Are you seriously going to give me a team dynamics lecture right now, Rogers?"

"Friends, I implore you to stop arguing…" Thor began, but both of them ignored his attempts to diffuse the argument, Steve plowing on with a retort sharp on his tongue.

"We aren't a team just when it's convenient, Tony! We work together to get the job done, you can't just go rogue when you feel like it-"

He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence, because there was a sudden flash of light, a faint thud, and Steve and Tony looked over at the source, to come face to face with… well. Themselves.

There was a long, shocked silence in which the Avengers all leapt to their feet and were staring at the newcomers, and then it was broken with Tony's voice, which definitely did not come from him, saying plainly, "What the fuck."

*

Everything froze for what felt like a full five minutes, both Tony and Steve yanked completely out of their argument and were staring in utter shock at the two complete replicas of themselves crouched across the room.

Steve was standing next to him, he made sure of it with a quick glance. There was another Steve standing over there, alongside another him. He was quite certain he hadn't figured out how to be in two places at once.

However, as the masters of the weird, the Avengers just took it in stride, and waited patiently for an answer.

Well, Clint looked like he was about to burst, and Bruce looked more than mildly annoyed - exhaustion could be incredibly trying on one's patience - but the rest of them had assumed an expression of complete calm and control, even Steve, who was looking at a complete replica of himself. Tony had no idea what he looked like, but he hoped it was the calm option, and not the 'freaked the fuck out' option.

Eventually, the other Steve huffed out a long sigh, and turned to the other Tony, who was giving him a look that seemed apologetic. The other Steve just shook his head almost imperceptivity, and started to stand, offering the other Tony a hand to pull him up along with him.

They really were the literal exact replicas of themselves; Steve was in his uniform, the old suit that resembled the one he used to wear back in the Howling Commando days, and his hair was a bit longer and shaggier, but it was his face entirely. Especially that expression, intent and alert, his battle face, the one that Tony had most gotten used to seeing. Well, it was similar to the one he was used to Steve making, but a bit more relaxed than he usually saw it.

 It was unnerving to be standing next to _his_ Steve while looking at another exact version of him, but what was infinitely more strange, was seeing himself.

Looking at the other version of himself, he looked pretty much the same. Same dark, unkempt hair and dark t-shirt paired with grease stained jeans. The arc reactor was there, glowing faint blue in a circle in his chest, and he was clutching some kind of metal contraption in one hand. That was all the same, but his face.

His face seemed different than the one that Tony looked at in the mirror, and he had no quantifiable explanation for why, but there was something there. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but was undeniably there.

Tony was staring at himself with what he knew was comical shock, but then he went a bit stiff when once they were on their feet, assessing the room around them, the other Steve released the other Tony's hand and reached up to cup the back of the other Tony's neck for a few brief seconds, in a intensely intimate moment. The other Tony, the other _him_ quite visibly leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for an instant, and he glanced at the other Steve when he pulled his hand away. Which, okay, weird; but there were weirder things at hand. For instance, the two identical clones that had quite literally appeared from thin air in their living room. So he tamped down the flare of - gods it couldn't be envy, except that it was, and Tony knew it - to focus on the situation at hand.

After the other Steve had carefully assessed the room, seemingly deciding that there was no immediate threat of being attacked (though he remained firmly in a semi-fighting stance), he turned to look at the other Tony accusingly.

"What did you do?"

The other Tony threw his hands in the air defensively, and looked reprovingly down at the metal thing in his hand. "I didn't do anything, I think it malfunctioned again, I'll have to recalibrate it again and see what's going on with it. It's behaving like it has a mind of its own, it's so finicky…" The other him trailed off as he raised the metal thing to his eyes and was glaring at it, but the other Steve was still looking at him expectantly, as if he were waiting for an explanation.

"Did it send us to another dimension, Tony?"

The other Tony winced, and looked at the other Steve sheepishly; and wow, Tony couldn't remember the last time he looked _sheepish._ Not a good look on him. "Maybe? I mean, I'll have to analyze the data to know for sure…"

"We were just in your workshop, there's no other explanation than that it transported us."

"Yes, I know, but we don't know _where._ Well. Okay, yes. To answer your question, yes, we are almost definitely in another dimension," the other Tony admitted, his words coming out in a rush. "But I can fix it! I almost had it, you know I did, I can just reverse the-"

That was enough of that. Tony cleared his throat loudly, and the other Steve and Tony turned sharply to look at him, as if they'd forgotten he was in the room. He just raised his eyebrows in a question, but it was Steve who stepped forward and spoke, seemingly shaking out of his shock to speak in that commanding Captain America voice.

"Would you care to explain to us what's going on?" he asked. Clearly he felt no need to ask them who they were; they were them, no doubt about that. No need to ask where they'd come from; they'd just said. Practical as ever, Steve just wanted an explanation of the situation. Tony, on the other hand was practically brimming over with questions, which he tamped down. He needed to keep a clear head, there was no telling what they were dealing with.

The other Steve and Tony looked at each other, then back at them.

"Maybe we should all sit down for this," the other Steve said slowly.

*

The first order of business was to establish the problem of names. They couldn't very well use Tony and Steve for the other, alternate versions of Tony and Steve, so they all agreed on calling them "Rogers" and "Stark."

They were from another dimension, it seemed, and they all  listened carefully as Stark told him about someone named MODOK playing around with interdimensional transportation for their next scheme for world domination. Apparently, the Avengers of their world had managed to confiscate the device before they deployed it, and Stark had taken it back to his labs to run tests on it.

Since Stark was actually him, Tony was pretty sure that he was the only person in the room who actually understood why Stark had gotten a little bit too curious, and had done more than analyze it. Essentially, he'd taken it apart, put it back together and played around with it; which of course, resulted in him and Rogers being vaulted through the folds of alternate realities.

Turns out Tony was reckless and overly curious in all universes.

"I'm almost positive that I can get us both back," Stark was saying now, only half to the group and mostly to himself as he turned the device in his hands, examining it closely.

"It seems that you do not have a full understanding of its functions," Natasha said blandly, and Stark's head shot up with a frown of disapproval.

"Same in this universe too, aren't you," he grumbled, and the Natasha glared at him, which seemed to have the same effect on Stark as it did on Tony; complete backtracking in order not to get himself killed.

"I didn't do anything to it when this happened," Stark explained, "this was a problem with the device that was there beforehand, it's what I'd been analyzing at the time when we got transported."

Natasha just looked at him with pursed lips, but she seemed to accept that answer. For now. Tony knew that face; she'd have more questions later.  

It was Bruce who had the next question. "Do you know how it managed to bring both of you?"

Stark shrugged. "From what I've been able to tell, it brings any people within a certain vicinity along with it. Steve - Rogers - just so happened to be standing next to me in my shop."

"Interesting," Bruce mused, and Tony would have shared the sentiment, had there not been something else on his mind. Along the lines of, what the hell had Roger's been doing in Stark's shop? That certainly wasn't a regular occurrence in Tony's realm, he didn't think Steve had even been in there once.

"I was in your shop?" Steve asked, his voice coloured by curious surprise, apparently thinking the same thing as Tony. Rogers was the one who responded to his puzzlement.

"Of course I was," he frowned, "does he not let you in his shop in this universe?"

"I…" Steve glanced at Tony, then back at Rogers. "I've never asked, I would've assumed I wasn't welcome."

"Welcome," Stark scoffed, "I work better when he's there."

Rogers glanced over at him fondly at that, and rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous Tony, er - Stark. You hardly even notice when I'm there."

"Not true at all, I never shut up when you're there!"

"I'm fairly certain that you do that even when I'm not there."

"Fair point, but you know that I'd rather you there with me than anywhere else, why else do you think I come up to the library while you draw in there so much?"

"To complain about the dust and how much you hate the smell of old books."

"I said that _one time,_ Rogers. One time. You're going to have to let go of it eventually."

Tony felt his back stiffen more and more as they spoke between themselves, because wow he'd actually just said that out loud. He'd just heard those words come out of lips identical to his own, and damned if it wasn't one of the weirdest things that had happened today so far. This was not a good direction, this was unchartered territory, this was not where he wanted to be headed at all. "Uh yeah, well. That certainly isn't something that happens in this dimension," he cut in, his voice a little high and frantic. He was really confused. And concerned. Not a good combination; his heart was rattling against his ribcage.

Rogers was directing his attention on him now, his eyes widened in a kind of hurt accusation. "You keep me out of your workshop?"

"I wouldn't put it that way," Tony responded tightly, and really he wanted to jump out of a window, anything to get out of this. It wasn't _his_ fault that in their universe Rogers didn't hate Stark and they hung out like best friends in his workshop together.

"Christ, Tony," Stark exclaimed, settling a accusing gaze on him. "Please don't tell me you don't actually keep your husband out of your shop, that's like shooting yourself in the foot."

Tony was pretty sure he choked on his tongue.

To be fair, Steve didn't seem to be in any better shape.

"Did you just say husband," Steve choked out, and both Rogers and Stark looked more than mildly surprised. So did the rest of the room.

Stark looked confused. "Are you not married yet in this universe?"

"Yet?" Tony's voice came out very near to a screech, and oh no, this wasn't real. He was dreaming, he had to be dreaming.

Roger's eyes widened. "You're not even _together_ yet?"

"You keep saying 'yet' like it's an immediate possibility!" Tony cried, but the tail end of his exclamation was drowned out by the sound of Clint loudly laughing.

"Oh my god, your _faces,"_ he hooted, and both Tony and Steve glared daggers at him, which he completely ignored, his face lit up in a delighted, shit-eating grin. Natasha jabbed him in the side, which Tony was grateful for, but it only caused the snickering to subside the slightest amount.

"My congratulations on your nuptials," Thor boomed, a grin split wide across his face, and Rogers just gave him a wan smile while Stark glared at Clint. At least the sentiment was shared, then.

"Thank you, Thor," Rogers said, and then looked over at Tony and Steve, who sat side by side with matching shocked faces.

So, they were married. That was a thing.

*

Once the shock had faded (in other words, once Tony had managed to fake not being shocked by the whole situation, and Steve had lit out of the tower to go for a run), he showed an enthusiastic Stark down to his shop.

He and Stark decided that until they figured this mess out, they were going to be working together, because there was no way in hell that Tony wasn't going to help _himself_ understand the malfunction in interdimensional transportation technology. So Tony offered Stark a spot in his lab, and they seemed to find the perfect rhythm right away, which was probably to be expected considering they were the same person.

He had JARVIS draw up the specs for the device, and while he did his thing, he sat down on a stool to address Stark.

"So," he began, his arms crossing over his chest, "want to tell me a bit about your world? Sounds like there's quite a few differences."

"Depends on why you're asking," Stark countered.

Tony smirked. "Purely curiosity of course."

Stark gave him a shrewd look, but leaned back in his chair and started speaking.

"We don't live here," he began, "we live in the mansion."

"Howard's mansion?" Tony asked, surprised. The thought of moving the team into that empty house  hadn't even crossed his mind.

"The Avengers mansion, now," he corrected, but he was nodding. "Falcon is on our team, but he's not here. You know him though, right?"

"I've heard of him." Tony remembered briefly Steve mentioning him a while back. He'd never said anything about him joining the team.

"Great guy," Stark told him, "plus his mom sends cookies along with him all the time. You should ask him to join. And of course, there's the whole business of being married to Captain America."

Tony winced. Right. That.

"Who you don't like," Stark continued.

"No, that's definitely not it," Tony said, and the words came out a little bit too fast, because really, he didn't. God, he didn't. He wished he did, it would be easier.

"I know," Stark told him with a roll of his eyes, and Tony chewed at his bottom lip before speaking again.

"We're friends, we just fight a lot," Tony told him with a shrug. Stark laughed and shook his head with a knowing look, but didn't respond. Just waited for Tony to go on.

He paused to think for a moment before continuing. "He just gets under my skin with that pompous do-gooder act he always has on." Because, yeah that was true. Just because he got all weak in the knees when Steve looked at him, didn't mean he wasn't frustrating as hell sometimes.

Stark chuckled, and a fond looked came over his expression. "Ah yes, that's our Steve."

"He's like that with you?" Tony asked, purposefully ignoring Stark's phrasing of calling him 'our Steve.' Steve wasn't his in any way.

"Damn right he is, we are talking about Steve here," Stark snorted, and shook his head. "Most stubborn pain in the ass I've ever met."

"But you married him," Tony pointed out.

"I did," Stark agreed, a smile playing softly around his lips, "and I've never regretted it for a second."

Tony wondered for a brief moment what that felt like.

*

One evening, Tony ran into Steve and Rogers in the middle of a seemingly in depth conversation, it left him puzzled and with a strange feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite identify.

He'd walked into the common room to find the two of them sitting on the couch, facing each other; his Steve with his knees drawn up and chin resting on them, Roger's was slouched forward with his elbows on his thighs, looking at Steve with an intent yet soft expression as he spoke.

When he walked in and saw them, there was a flash of a moment where Roger's looked up at him, saw his mouth curve around his name and, Tony couldn't be sure, but he was sure he saw something dark and sad flicker there. He didn't know what to make of it, and in an instant it faded away, leaving a blank space behind.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Tony spoke.

"Sorry, didn't realize you were in here," he apologized, forcing himself to make his tone light, "but  does it really count on intruding if you're having a conversation with, well, yourself? I'm pretty sure that equals out to be the same as mumbling to yourself, which you happen to do a lot, Cap."

At the sound of Tony's voice, Steve's head lifted up so he could twist back to glance at him. His expression was shuttered, and his gaze only lingered on him for a moment before he turned back to look at Rogers.

Rogers looked back at Steve for a long moment, some kind of weird, telepathic deal, from what Tony could tell, and then he stood up.

"I'm going to go look for Stark," he announced, and with that, he left, not even looking at Tony again before he disappeared.

Then he was left with just Steve, who seemed to be very determinedly not looking at him.

Well, it was alright that he'd run into them, because there was something he needed to clear up.

"So," he began, "about the whole, alternate universe versions of ourselves, you know, getting hitched and whatnot…"

He hesitated, and without even glancing in his direction, Steve prompted him to continue with an unusually gravelly, "yes?"

"Well," he said slowly, and crossed the room to flop down into a chair. How was he supposed to word this without it being painfully obvious how far gone he was for Steve?

"I just don't want it to be weird between us now," he decided on, and that was true. That was honest. Steve tolerating his general existence was a lot better than open dislike for him.

"Then it won't be," Steve said softly.

"I mean, it's not a big deal," Tony plowed on, regulating his voice as much as possible, "for all we know I could be married to Clint in some universe and you know how absolutely ridiculous that would be."

Steve gave a hollow laugh, and shrugged his shoulders, and _damn it_ why wouldn't he look at Tony. "Yeah, of course."

"What I'm trying to say is, it means nothing," he finished, "you don't have to worry about me suddenly starting to put the moves on you."

Because that's what Steve needed to hear; reassurance that he wasn't going to suddenly be subjected to the affections of a certain Tony Stark.

Steve seemed to flinch at his words, but Tony probably just imagined that. He finally turned to look at him, and despite what Tony thought, it actually wasn't better that way, because Steve's eyes were dark and muted in a way that made Tony squirm.

"Of course you aren't, Tony," and he thought that maybe his voice sounded sad, and tired, but it'd been a long day, they were all tired.

Steve got up and left the room without a backward glance, and Tony sat there feeling hollow for a lot longer than he intended to.   

*

One morning Tony and Stark were interrupted in the middle of their work by a request relayed by JARVIS for them to come up for breakfast; apparently Rogers had made pancakes. Almost simultaneously, both of their stomachs growled and they laughed because they'd been down there working for thirty six hours and neither of them had noticed. Turns out, working with himself was the best possible thing to do, because he was the only one who understood Tony's work habits. So they worked in peace.

Well, except for Rogers hounding Stark every couple hours, but Stark told him that was to be expected. He really didn't seem to mind.

Tony really did try not to be jealous. He did. He just wasn't successful at all.

So once they both broke out of their trance, buried in a haze of engineering, Stark immediately seemed to light up, and was quickly gone. Probably had something to do with him having Rogers upstairs waiting for him, but whatever. Tony took his time, before following the promising scent of syrup and pancakes.

When he got upstairs, he more than kind of wished that he hadn't come up at all.

The whole team was sitting around the kitchen table, amicably talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, most of them still looking bleary eyed and ruffled from sleep. Bruce was sitting next to Thor who was talking animatedly about some festival in Asgard, gesturing with his orange juice and consequently spilling it everywhere. Bruce kept trying to interject and let him know, but Thor was too excited with the storytelling and didn't even notice. Eventually, Tony saw Bruce give up, raise his hand to suppress a yawn, and settled back in his chair to listen, carefully avoiding the orange juice spray.

Across from them, Clint and Natasha sat sprawled out between two chairs, both of them invading each other's space. Natasha had her socked feet in Clint's lap, and he was hunched forward to rest his elbows on her knees as they spoke in soft, hushed voices. Tony couldn't be sure because he wasn't close enough to hear, but he was fairly certain that they were not speaking English. Who knew what kind of secrets they were murmuring to each other.

Next, and only because he tried to find him after he had accounted for the rest of the team, his eyes fell on Steve.

He was the only one not sitting, he was standing by the stove in just a pair of boxers that hung loosely over his hips - and wasn't that just a sight for sore eyes - a worn white t-shirt, and bare feet. His hair was all plastered flat against the back of his head where he'd slept on it, and it stuck up in weird angles around his head. He still looked sleep, his blue eyes downcast at the pancakes he was cooking, and he held a spatula absentmindedly in one hand, twirling it once in a while as he stood there.

He looked equal parts deliciously ravishing and adorable, and Tony wanted to groan out loud at the unfairness of it.

He didn't get any real time to enjoy the view, though, because then Steve looked up and saw him, and immediately a friendly grin broke out across his face.

Tony wondered when he'd become so hopelessly smitten that just a smile from Steve made him feel like he was completely melting inside.

"Morning, Tony," he said brightly, and waved at him with the spatula. "Want some pancakes?"

They hadn't spoken a whole lot since the whole awkward 'in an alternate universe, we're married' conversation, but Tony happily saw when he searched Steve's face that he didn't see any of the tension hiding there that he had seen back then. He was more than grateful for that.

"Sure would," he grinned back, and started to step forward. "I just…"

His voice trailed off as he set eyes on the final duo on the room.

Next to the window, in the little cushioned breakfast nook that normally went completely unused, Stark and Rogers were sitting side by side, with their heads so close together that their foreheads were almost touching. Stark's legs were draped across Rogers' lap, and Rogers had one hand resting lightly on his thigh, while the other one was wrapped tightly around Stark's shoulders, his fingers flexed gently against his shoulder.

While that was a intensely intimate image, it wasn't what set Tony's heart pounding in his chest.

When he looked over, their faces were both alight in mid laugh after Stark had leaned in to press a kiss to Rogers' lips. The morning light was filtering in through the window behind them, dancing across their faces. Rogers' hair caught the light like a halo around his head, and Stark's eyes shone a deeply golden brown. Their eyes were locked on each other's, their gazes completely intent and focused solely on each other, noses almost touching as they leaned into each other, melting into each other's space.

Something ached so fierce in Tony's chest that before he could properly think it through, he was turning on his heel.

He stalked out of the room, his heart pounding frantically in his chest, ignoring the confusion of Steve's voice calling his name after him.

Yeah. This really wasn't fair at all.

*

The night of the breakfast incident, after Stark was dragged upstairs by a very insistent Rogers, Tony tried to keep working, but he couldn't. Something kept twisting in his gut, and he couldn't ignore it. So he didn't bother trying. He got up, brushed himself off, and went off searching for someone who would be able to put his head on straight.

That’s how he ended up sprawled on one of the couches in the common room, with his head resting in Natasha's lap, the burn of tequila still throbbing in his throat.

"See, the problem is," Tony was saying, and Natasha listened quietly as she ran her fingers through his hair. She really could be quite gentle when she wanted to, she wasn't one for coddling, but when she gave comfort, she was good at it. Tony couldn't have said when Natasha became one of the people he'd go to when he needed his head put on straight - the others being Pepper and Rhodey of course, but they were both forever away  and he'd needed someone solid. He'd needed more than a phone call, he'd needed this.

Plus, out of all of his options, Natasha was the least likely to ask him to talk about what been going through his mind over breakfast, because yeah. He'd really rather not go there.

"The problem is," he said, his words slightly slurred, "is that they look so happy together."

"They do look happy together," Natasha agreed. "You and Steve could be too."

"Could we?" he asked sadly. "He didn't look pleased at all when we found out they were married."

"You don't know that."

"I do," he said miserably.

"No, you don't," she said again, and it was firm and unyielding, leaving no room for arguments. Tony knew that tone. He wasn't going to bother trying to convince her otherwise, even though he couldn't see any way she could be right.

"You should talk to him," Natasha told him, and maybe she was right, and maybe she wasn't, but when Tony thought about that kiss between Rogers and Stark he ached so badly he wasn't sure how he could breathe with it.

*

They were sitting around the table, bellies full of the rather large amount of pizzas they'd ordered, and were listening to Stark and Rogers talk about their universe.

"You're saying that you infiltrated a top secret underwater villain compound, in disguise?"

"Yup," Stark confirmed, eyes sparkling as he answered Clint, and damned if he didn't look more than a bit smug.

"Damn," Clint breathed, and flopped back in his chair. "Why can't our Steve and Tony be that badass."

"Hey," Tony snapped indignantly, and gestured between himself and an amused Steve who sat across the table from him, "we could definitely do that if we had to, ass hat, we are most certainly just as badass."

"And yet, you haven't," Clint countered, and seemed about to say something else, but Natasha gave him a look and he seemed to reconsider.

Even so, Tony wasn't one to let someone else have the last word, and he opened his mouth to retort something back, but Thor was talking, and it was virtually impossible to talk over Thor, so he just settled for a glare.

"A most daring act of bravery indeed," Thor proclaimed.

"It was, until our cover was blown." Rogers gave Stark an accusing glance, but Stark just rolled his eyes.

"That was definitely not my fault at all," he shot back, but he was grinning, and so was Rogers. It was clearly a conversation they'd had before.

"How was your cover blown?" Thor asked, and out of all of them, he seemed the most enraptured by the stories, leaning forward on his elbows. Earlier he'd said something about traditions in Asgard of telling tales of battle over meals, so Tony figured it made sense that he was so interested.

Stark chuckled at the question, and Tony noticed Rogers trying to suppress a smile, but in that familiar way that he recognized from Steve's face, the slight curve at the edge of his lips was a telltale sign that he was amused.

"See, that's actually really funny-"

"It wasn't funny at the time, Stark," Rogers cut in, and Stark just grinned at him, all straight white teeth and mischievous eyes.

"It was hilarious, now hush honey, I'm telling  a story." Stark reached over to pat Rogers' hand, who just grumbled under his breath, which was completely ignored by his husband.

"Well, everything was going just fine until they opened my armour," Tony explained, "and what MODOK found inside was definitely not me."

"What was inside?" Steve asked, and Rogers groaned.

Tony smirked. "He got a nice eyeful of a picture of me with my ass hanging out."

Steve snorted, and glanced over at Tony. "That sounds exactly like something Tony would do," he said, and he was still looking at Tony, grinning softly, even though he was talking to Stark.

"Well," Rogers said grudgingly, and they both turned back to him, "I'm sure there could've been better ways to trick them."

"Relax," Stark told him, "we could handle it, we even managed to hold our own with vampires trying to sink their teeth into us."

Then, Stark brightened, and turned his gaze on Natasha.

"Say, have we told you about the time you turned into a vampire?" Tony asked excitedly.

"No," Natasha told him flatly, but an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. Damn. Natasha as a vampire, talk about terrifying.

"If you don't tell this story, I'm kicking you out of this tower myself," Clint told Stark, leaning forward on his elbows in anticipation.

Stark laughed, and then he began. "Well, you came running into the training room like a bat out of hell…"

*

Tony found Steve one morning in the kitchen, staring out the window, a mug in his hands and his eyes soft and distant where he stared out.

Tony was just heading to bed, stopping in the kitchen on the way to crawl under his covers and sleep for as long as he could. He was at the point now where he was pretty sure that if he kept on working he might accidentally chop off his arm. Jarvis would've shut everything down soon anyways, new protocols he'd programmed into the AI mostly to get Steve off of his back, but rather useful. Tony wasn't above admitting that he was a bit of an obsessive workaholic.

So it was like that, yawning and bleary eyed, that he walked into the kitchen to find Steve staring sadly out at the expanse of New York below them.

He looked up when Tony came in, his eyes going all soft and a bit surprised. "Hi, Tony. You're up already?"

Tony shook his head, and ducked out of Steve's gaze to make his way over to the fridge to dig out frozen waffles. Seriously, how did Steve do that? He always looked directly at Tony, whether it was with wide doe eyes or with pupils dilated with fury, he always gazed at him with his complete attention. When he looked at tony like that it felt like he was making a point of looking at him, of directing all of his attention on him. That look always made the skin at the back of his neck prickle, equal parts foreign and comforting.

"Nope," he told him through another yawn. "Just heading to bed, been working since... Well I don't even know when. At this point all of the days start to blend together."

He didn't have to look at Steve to know that he was frowning, he could hear it in his voice. "You shouldn't do that Tony, it's bad for you."

Tony shoved two waffles into the toaster and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's what I do, Steve," he told him, and flashed him a grin. "I'm well known for myself destructive behavior"

The smile Steve gave him was tinged with something close to sadness, and Tony didn’t want to think too much about why that made something like discomfort sit heavy in his stomach.

"I don't think that's it, exactly," Steve said thoughtfully, his eyes assessing Tony.

"No?" Tony asked.

"No," Steve repeated. "No I don't think so"

"Care to share with the audience, Rogers?" Tony questioned, his smile wry.

Steve didn't answer right away, just stared at him with those eyes, those blazingly intent eyes, boring into tony. When he spoke, his voice was soft like the early morning sunlight that was coming in through the window, rosy pink and golden, falling across his face in a warm glow.

Tony found himself idly thinking that he looked beautiful like that, all soft around the edges with the sun at his back, his sleep mussed hair lit up like fire, or spun gold. Sleepy, soft, early morning Steve with those earnest eyes of his was a weakness of his.

"You're passionate," Steve said finally, "you don't do things halfway. You work because you love what you do."

"Yeah well," Tony shrugged, nonchalant as ever, "who wouldn't love being a genius"

There was that sad smile again. Tony's heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. "That's not what I meant"

"I know," Tony said honestly, and Steve nodded before continuing.

"Good."

Steve stepped closer to him, until he was standing close enough to rest a hand, firm and steady against his shoulder. Tony grit his teeth and tried not to make it too obvious how much that simple touch affected him, the current that ran through his body at the contact.

"Get some sleep," he murmured, and his voice was so low and gentle that Tony thought almost for a moment that it might be intimate, but then with a squeeze of a hand and a small grin he was gone. Tony was left there with frozen waffles in the toaster, aching for that touch again.

*

After that image of Steve's face bright and soft in the morning sunlight had been seared into his head, Tony decided to bite the bullet and ask someone what he should do. Namely, himself.

He found Stark in his lab, and it took only a few rambling sentences after Tony poured himself a drink, before Stark put two and two together.

"You're finally ready to talk about how you're in love with Steve, and you want to know what to do." Tony visibly flinched, and his fingers tightened around his glass, which he suddenly wanted to throw at a wall. This was a mistake, why had he thought that this was a good idea. "

Guess I shouldn't be surprised. We are the same person." 

"Right," Stark said plainly, and leaned back in his chair."Well, what do you want to know?" 

There was a long pause before he spoke. "When did you realize?" 

Stark looked thoughtful for a moment, his lips twisted in that way that Tony knew he did himself. Even after days of spending time with him, he couldn't get used to that. It was strange, to see himself in front of him, but know it wasn't him, it was an entirely different person. It felt wrong to see his own quirks on another person who was a stranger but at the same time, he was him, and it was absolutely not something Tony thought he was going to get used to.

  
Then Stark spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "There was no moment of realization, if that's what you mean. It was just... There. There was no moment where fireworks went off and I swooped in to tell him I loved him. It was slow. It was gradual. We fit together and eventually, piece by piece, we came together ." "What are you saying, he completes you?" Tony demanded reproachfully, staring deep into the amber in his glass, because that was so cliché it was ridiculous.   
  
"No," Stark chuckled, "not at all. What, do you think just because I married Rogers  became a walking romcom billboard.""Well, clearly, we're not exactly the same," Tony pointed out.

"Clearly," Stark agreed, "but close enough."  
  
Tony frowned at him, and Stark just shrugged. "We weren't only half a person when we found each other. We just became more of ourselves in each other." 

Tony shook his head. "I don't get it."

 "Of course, you don't," Stark said, and it was almost soft. Tony hated that sound on his own tongue, and he wasn't sure why.

"You'll know when you feel it."

Tony didn't answer, and a moment later, Stark said, "he feels the same way you know."

"Bullshit." It was half-hearted, but really, believing stuff like that wasn't a good idea. As much as he wanted to.

"Is it?" Stark asked, and his voice wasn't judgemental, Tony almost thought that he sounded sad. Or, like he knew something that Tony didn't and he wasn't sure he should guide him in the right direction, or let him figure things out on his own.

"Yes, it is."

"You're wrong." 

"I often am," Tony said dryly. Then he set the drink down, stood and made way for the door. He'd gotten what he'd needed.  
  
  
"Loving him is just an undeniable fact," Stark called out after him as he left, and his voice was confident, unwavering. "I have no doubt that in every conceivable universe, we love him. I have no reason to believe any different for him." 

*

They figured out how to send them home almost a week after they'd arrived unannounced, and they were gone within the hour.

They were all more than a little bit relieved, it’d been a little bit tiring having two duplicate team members wandering around the tower.They leave behind them a bitter taste that Tony can't seem to get out of his mouth, but Steve looks at him with eyes bright and hot before leaving, something melancholy hovering there, so he figures he's not the only one.

*

He and Natasha decided to get drunk again, and it was both the best and worst decision that he'd ever made.

It was the best because he got to forget for a few hours. They went deep into the bounds of the city, bought a pizza that was both far too greasy and not greasy enough, and Tony found them a roof top (not with the suit, he wouldn't do that again) to sit on and they bemoaned the lack of stars and gossiped about the rest of the group, like they always did.

It was the worst because Natasha saw through him, and it only took a little bit of probing, and by probing, Tony meant 'the glare' for him to say, "he doesn't want me back."

She didn't need him to elaborate, to tell him who he was talking about. Natasha just looked at him with eyes that were so bright and knowing in the dark, and shook her head.

She chugged down a long swig of whiskey and looked at him with a stare that burned stronger than the drink."You know, for a genius you're so fucking dumb sometimes," she told him, and then Tony was laughing, because she was right, of course she was right.

Tony wasn't sure why though, because how, in any conceivable way, was it possible for Steve to feel for him the way he was slowly realizing he felt for Steve. The golden boy would fall in love with a woman, get a house in the suburbs and leave Tony broken hearted, and that was that.He didn't know what was so funny, but he laughed and he laughed until his stomach hurt and tears were streaming from his eyes.

Natasha sat next to him and rested his head on her shoulder.

He'd been quiet for a long time when she said, "I know you think you know a lot of things, Stark, but trust me on this. You're wrong."

Tony wanted so badly to believe her, that the glimmer of hope may have flickered and grew.

Only slightly, but still.

It grew. 

*

He decided that he just had to call Pepper, cause that's what he did when everything turned to shit, so that’s what he does.

She picks up on the third ring, her voice crisp and clear as ever through the phone, and Tony immediately feels relief wash over him like a bucket of cool water, soothing the insistent burning that was running through him.

"Tony?"

"Yeah," he said, and that didn't sound quite right. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah Pep, it's me. I know you're probably busy and I'm definitely bothering you, you're a busy woman, I know, but-"

"You're not bothering me, Tony," she cut in, because right, Tony was rambling and they hadn't even been talking for thirty seconds. Tony could hear the tone in her voice, the one she used when she was fondly exasperated with him, and at the same time telling him he needed to calm down.

Which meant that she could tell that he was a mess. This was going well.

He started chewing anxiously on his lower lip until he finally decided on how he should proceed.

"I have a problem," Tony told her, and Pepper sighed.

"Should I get legal on the line?"

"What? God, no Pepper, I didn't do anything stupid this time. Well, maybe I did, or it's more likely that I'm going to and I'm going to fuck things up so badly that even you won't be able to fix it, but I need your help so that I don't do that."

"What is it, Tony?" and God, her voice was soft, like silk, and if anyone else in the world used that comforting tone with him he'd probably tear them a new one for being condescending, but this was Pepper and she could read him like an open book.

Tony took a deep breath before the words tumbled out of his mouth uncontrollably.

"What if I told you that I had alternate dimension versions of myself and Steve living in my house for a week and that they're married, and seeing them together made me think that perhaps, just maybe, me and Steve could have something?"

Pepper only paused for a beat before answering with, "I'd say that I've heard a lot worse from you."

Tony snorted, and let out a sound that sounded an awful lot like a frantic, broken laugh. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do Pepper. There's no way that he'll want me back, I'm such a fucking mess all the time, but there's just this tiny part of me at the back of my mind that just keeps saying ' _what if,'_ but I shouldn't listen to that, right?"

Pepper, bless her soul, didn't even stop him to ask about the whole "alternate dimension Steve and Tony" thing; Tony knew that he would be giving her a thorough explanation later. She just knew that there was a more pressing matter at hand, that of Tony's current mental state. Which, by the way, was not so swell.

"I think," she said slowly, and Tony leaned into the phone, as if he could absorb her comfort from here. "I think you're being a complete idiot and you need to go talk to him."

Tony blinked. Pulled the phone away from his ear, looked at it , and put it back. "What?"

"You heard me," Pepper said, a firm edge to her voice, though it was still soft, "go talk to him."

"But-"

"Tony," she stopped him, "you called for my advice, and that's it. You can either take it or leave it."

Tony didn't answer, just stood there with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowed in thought.

After a while, Pepper sighed again. "Look, you don't have to listen to me Tony, but you know I want you to be happy."

"Even though I'm a pain in the ass and make you have to deal with legal every couple months 'cause of me?"

Through the faint annoyance, Tony could hear the smile in her voice. "Even then."

Tony smiled too, and it was a painful, broken thing. "Goodbye, Pepper."

"Bye, Tony."   

Then she was gone, and Tony made a decision, because when his life turned to shit, he always, always should listen to Pepper.

*

He didn't have time to act on that decision, because the next day he was in the shop when Steve came barging in - when had he learned the code, anyways - with eyes frantic and flashing, his mouth set in a determined line. Tony looked up in surprise when he clattered in through the door, standing up just as Steve came to a halt about an arm's length away to stand looming over him. He looked like a man on a mission, like he was about to throw himself headfirst into battle.

Needless to say, Tony was more than a little confused.

"We need to talk," Steve ground out, and Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he set down his soldering iron.

"Well, first things first, there's this thing called knocking, you may have heard of it. Second, what the hell, Steve?"

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and one hand came up to run through his hair, and oh God Tony had missed him, the desire to replace that hand with his own was overwhelming. He ached to touch him, he'd be satisfied at this point to just curl his fingers around the nape of his neck for just a few fleeting moments at this point. He wasn't to so badly, he felt has hand twitch, as if it knew what he wanted and was trying to act of its own free will.

When Steve's eyes flashed back open, he arranged his face into a stoic and nonchalant expression, because when actually coming face to face with him, it was going to be pretty damn hard to say _yeah so, I'm madly in love with you, wanna go out for coffee sometime? Or you know, every day. For all eternity, because I will never, ever get tired of your face._

"Please, let me talk?" Steve implored, and he looked so desperate that Tony's mouth snapped shut.

Steve looked relieved when he didn't start talking again within the next few seconds, and took in a deep breath.

"Maybe I'll say this, and you'll never want to speak to me again, but I have to. God it's just been eating me alive, Tony." He sounded so pained, and Tony felt a frown of concern crease his brow.

"Steve-"

"No, wait," Steve told him, "just… let me get this out, okay?"

Tony nodded. He could do that, but all he'd wanted to tell Steve that there wasn't much he could say that would make him never want to speak to him again. Nothing that came to mind.

Steve took another breath in, and then words came out of him in a rush.

"I like you."

Tony blinked. "What?"

A flush bloomed rosy across Steve's cheeks. "You heard me, Tony."

He had, but he had no idea what he meant. "I… like you too?"

Steve sighed. "Tony, I don’t mean as a friend."

Tony frowned. "Then…"

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Tony just stared at him for what felt like a full five seconds, swivelled his head around, because there had to be a hidden camera somewhere, this was a _joke._

No cameras in sight, Tony turned back to Steve. "A date?"

"A date," Steve repeated.

"I don't know what a date meant back in the twentieth century Steve, but nowadays…"

"Oh Christ," Steve breathed, and then he stepped closer, impossibly close, and suddenly Tony couldn't breathe. Steve was looking down at him, close enough that he could see a freckle that lay on the crest of his cheek, and he could feel his breath brushing against his cheek.

"I mean this," Steve murmured, and he raised one hand to Tony's shoulder, lightly enough that he could break the contact and back away very easily, but firm. Tony had a flash of that morning in the kitchen, and the reaction he was having was pretty much the same; his heart was going wild.

Then, it pretty much stopped when Steve leaned in, pausing just a breath away from his lips, his blue eyes watching Tony carefully, and then soft, warm lips were pressed against his own.

For a fraction of a second, Tony's whole body stiffened in shock, and he felt Steve startle and start to pull away, but just in time he got his bearings, and both hands came up to clutch at Steve's chest, fingers burying into his shirt as he pulled him in. Steve made a little surprised noise in his throat, and then he was smiling against Tony's mouth, stepping closer to eclipse the smaller man with his frame.

The kiss was soft and tentative, a suggestion rather than a demand, and Tony thought he'd be okay if it never ended.

It had to, of course, and when they broke away, a little breathless, Tony was grinning so wide he thought that his face might break.

"We are both complete idiots," he announced, and Steve smiled at him, his eyes hopeful and a little bit dazed.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Complete, clueless fools," Tony confirmed, and since it seemed like he could, he reached both arms up to wrap around Steve's neck. Steve's hands dropped down to settle on his waist, and Tony leaned into his broad torso, the warmth of him radiating through their clothes to simmer lightly against his skin. Oh, he could get used to this.

"So, yes to a date then?" Steve asked, and Tony stopped caring if his face looked stupidly happy, because Steve looked like he was about to burst, so who cared.

"Yeah," Tony said, as he leaned up to kiss him again, "I think a date might be good."

 

*

It was never perfect for them, but neither of them wanted it to be. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

That was always enough.


End file.
